I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’m always saying sorry. That I could not be there enough while I was being someone else’s shoulder so much that I’ve detached from my own. And I run on with my sentences because I’m tired of drowning my own emotions. It’s time to drag them out to hang as dirty laundry.
I’ll spill my own tears and wash them with my chipping resolve. I’ll tell you I’m sorry again.
I’m sorry when I’m not there. I’m sorry when I’m there and I can’t stop the inevitable from occurring because life is one giant steamroller.
I’m sorry when you’re not happy with my best. I’m sorry when my best is enough. I can always do better. I can always make someone else, anybody else happy.
I’m sorry when it’s a wonderful time and not everyone is here to share it. When our fortune wins at last, we must take pains to remember it’s our own damn fault. I’m sorry we’re not starving even if our hearts are ravenous.
I’m only sorry when it hurts.
And hurts. It always hurts.